


Dark Blue

by sunandmoondiscourse



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, just some boys being musicians and dumbasses, ryden smutt (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunandmoondiscourse/pseuds/sunandmoondiscourse
Summary: Ryan Ross is just a guy with a guitar trying to stay afloat in Chicago. Brendon is an international star trying to become a better version of himself. When Brendon sees Ryan preform at a dimly lit club, the two begin on a journey that takes them across the country and closer to each other.MATURE THEMES. ADULT CONTENT IN FUTURE CHAPTERS. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY.
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

None of the words I’m muttering to myself sound quite right. I was hoping to add a new song to my set list tonight, but that seems less and less likely. There’s something missing and I can’t fucking figure out what. I let out a long sigh and slouch back down into the old armchair I keep by the window. 

I hum the melody over and over as I look out the streaky window, center city Chicago staring back at me from off in the distance. It’s beginning to frost around the edges of the glass, another sure sign we’re in the throes of winter. Maybe someday I’ll be able to afford something closer to the clubs I play. But music doesn’t pay the bills and my gig at the screen printers up the block barely covers what I need to keep this shitty studio apartment I’ve been stuck in for the last six years. It’s a roof and a bed and a place to keep my guitar. I’m a simple guy- that’s all I really need. 

Jon’s supposed to be over soon to go with me up to Elbo Room. He always makes the train ride seem a little less lonely. He’s a dad now; he and Cassie got married a while back and now he’s obsessed with his role as a father. I don’t blame him. I miss him, maybe even envy him on some days, but I can’t fault the guy for wanting to be with his family instead of his best friend who’s stuck in the same place he’s always been.

My phone vibrates against the coffee table and I know without looking that it’s Jon asking me to let him up. I walk over and buzz him in, unlocking the door so he can just come in and make himself at home. The door opens only a moment later with a heavy close; my landlord never did come and fix the door. 

“Sup?” He asks in an even tone before sprawling out on the couch. I offer him a nod of my chin in response. “Any progress?”

“I wish,” I sighed. “I can’t...I can’t fucking figure out what’s missing.” I hand him the notebook I was just scribbling in. Jon Walker is the only person on this earth I let read my lyrics before I’ve finished a song. When we were younger men, we were in a little band with big dreams of ‘making it’. He always understood my meaning without me actually having to say anything, so I started going to him when I was stuck on a song. The band may be long forgotten and he may have salt and pepper decorating his beard and around the temple, but Jon’s still my go-to when I’m doubting myself. 

He reads over the page a couple times. I can see his brow pull together as he formulates a line. Quickly, he scratches down just a few words, offering me the notebook back. “What about that? I mean, only an idea. You don’t have to keep it if you think it doesn’t work.”

It’s my turn to read his lyrics, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t solve my problem. “You’re a genius, Jon. Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice,” he smiles. Jon’s always had such a nice smile. 

“Thanks,” I smile back, gently shaking the notebook. 

“Don’t mention it.” He stifles a yawn and stretches to crack his back. “Pete told me there should be a bigger crowd tonight.”

“Yeah?” I close my notebook and get up to stuff it in the backpack next to my guitar case. “Well, that makes me feel much better about trying out a slapped together song.”

“It’s not slapped together, dude. You’ve had this melody forever and most of those lyrics.” Jon stands up and gently squeezes my shoulders. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve got this.” I wish more than anything I could believe him.

“Cmon, I want to get a sandwich before we have to set up.” I say, changing the subject before he forces me to believe In myself. I grab my things and gesture toward the door, locking up before we step into the cold and wait for the train to take us to the north side. 

——-

Ten minutes until showtime and I’m still busy knocking back beers, trying anything to drown my nerves. My fingers flex and release on their own accord, likely looking for the neck of my guitar they so often grip. I let my head rest back against the green room wall as I tip the last of the bottle down. 

“Another?” Jon asks before clasping his hand on my shoulder. 

“Better not,” I chuckle. Jon‘s good like that, always looking out for me out of the goodness in his heart. I could stand to learn something from him. 

“Yeah, can’t have you falling off stage, huh?” We laugh together, biding time until the sad sack on stage finally finishes up. I’ve seen him around here before, pretty sure his name is Dan, and he’s really not half bad. Just, you know...a little contrived. Songs about drinking and being sad and girls- the whole singer-songwriter manifesto. But me? My songs are about drinking and being sad and boys. So yeah, totally not contrived. 

The applause starts up and I hear him walk off stage, soon appearing in the room Jon and I are inhabiting. 

“Good crowd out there tonight,” Dan smiles. He’s tall and blonde with nice cheek bones; he’s not all together my type, but handsome still. I nod appreciatively and move to pick up my guitar. One more deep breath and I start the short trek down the hall to the side of the stage, Jon hot on my heel. 

Pete is standing center stage, impossibly wide grin on his face as he claps. He’s owned this bar a long time and known me even longer. Childhood friends who just kept crossing paths and somehow ended up in a band together for a time. Now, he lets me play a set slot during open mic night, and I appreciate that. “One more time for Dan Keyes, everyone!” The crowd claps before Pete speaks again. “Next up we have a dear friend of mine. You may have seen him play here before, he can’t seem to quit me,” I roll my eyes offstage as the crowd laughs softly, “Please welcome to the stage Mr. Ryan Ross!” 

I pass Pete stepping on stage and playfully knock him in the shoulder. No matter how many times I step under this spotlight, my palms still sweat and I can still feel that familiar dry tickle in my chest. I clear my throat and push my lips close to the mic. 

“Hi. Uh, I’m Ryan. And um, this one’s called Lonely Moonlight.”

As I begin to sing, I close my eyes, letting myself forget about all the eyes on me and just get lost in the words. Jon was right- there’s definitely a bigger crowd here tonight. I don’t allow myself to wonder why. My fingers carry themselves over the frets, moving seamlessly through the song. I’m nearing the bridge when I get the distinct feeling of someone staring. Obviously, I know most eyes are on me- I’m preforming, after all. But it’s the feeling you get when you just know your being watched, being followed. It’s unnerving. I move to open my eyes, keeping my voice even as I scan the room. A lot of faces are familiar, which makes me more comfortable. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe I’m just in my head more than usual. God, that doesn’t seem possible, but I’ve surprised myself before. 

Just before I go to look down at my fingers, satisfied that I was just being paranoid, I see him. He’s leaning, arms draped in a loose cross over the railing in the back. I can tell he’s lean in his skin tight black jeans and leather jacket. There’s a smirk tugging at his full, god fucking perfect, lips and his eyes are pouring straight into me. I can’t see every detail of his face from this far away and under the bright lights, but the feeling he gives me is unmistakable. I swallow hard and pull my eyes from him as quickly as I can. 

I hurry through the rest of my set, stumbling more than I really should. I play the same set nearly every week, there’s no reason to fuck up as much as I am. But he’s in my head. He hasn’t done a thing but stare and clap and I’m completely off my game. 

Finally, I get to the end of my set and all but sprint off stage. Jon tries to say something to me, but I blow past him to the green room. As I sit, head in my hands, the door softly clicks closed. 

“Dude, you good?” Jon’s voice is gentle, like saying the wrong thing would break me. 

“I fucking sucked up there,” I groan, throwing my head against the back of the couch. Why did I let one maybe cute guy get me like that? I can’t even be sure he’s cute for fucks sake! He was way too far away to tell. 

“You were a little rattled, but you didn’t suck, Ryan.” Jon walks over and sits next to me, offering me a cold beer. He’s good, that Jon Walker. On my exhale, there’s a knock on the door. Before waiting for a response, Pete lets himself in, still grinning like an idiot. 

“Ryguy! Good set tonight!” I only glower at him. We both know that’s bullshit. “I got someone here who wants to meet you.”

Not possible. There’s no way anyone would want to possibly see me after that pathetic of a performance. I raise an eyebrow and pull my lips into a tight line. “Yeah? Someone wants to break bread with a bumbling mess that can’t even play his own fucking songs?”

“I’m not really a big carb guy, but I was hoping maybe sharing a drink could be arranged.” His voice is deep but friendly and I know before I even look up that it’s him. I don’t know how, but I know. He’s standing behind Pete along with another large, tattooed man who I’ve never seen before. Up close, he’s fucking breathtaking. He has a strong brow with a tiny scar running through his eyebrow, deep espresso eyes set back underneath. There’s a small scattering of freckles across his nose, a light stubble growing along his squared jaw. And god, when he pulls back his full, pouty lips to reveal a blinding smile, I feel like I need to lay down. “Brendon,” he says simply, offering me his hand. 

I shake his hand back and give him what I know is a crooked at best smile. “Ryan.”

“So I hear,” he laughs. I chance a look over at Jon to see if he’s getting a read on this interaction at all, but he’s just standing there, jaw slack like an idiot. “I was really impressed by your set,” I do everything in my power not to scoff, “and I was wondering if I could get you a drink?”

“I uh…” I look at Jon again, who is now nodding his head vigorously. “I, yeah, ok. Yeah, that sounds good.” I smile wide at him when he splits into that toothy grin once again. Brendon turns on his heel to exit and I move to follow him when Jon catches my elbow. “Sorry, one sec. I’ll meet you outside?”

“Can’t wait,” he smirks. Is he flirting with me? No. He’s probably not even gay. Jesus Christ, what am I thinking? Once Brendon and Pete have left, Jon grabs my shoulders and looks at me frantically. 

“Dude. Do you know who that is?” 

“Um. Brendon?” I ask, unsure of his point. 

“Yeah. Brendon fucking Urie. As in frontman of The Locals, Brendon Urie,” he says, exasperated by my apparent ignorance. 

“Sounds kinda familiar,” I shrug in return. “So what? Why did you hold me back, man?”

“I just,” Jon takes a breath before carrying on. “This could be big for you. I don’t know what he wants, if anything, but shit, dude! Who knows- maybe being his friend could open some doors.”

“I’m not going to use him to make it,” I say immediately, pulling on my coat and scarf. 

“And I’m not saying you should. I’m saying be kind and friendly like I know you can be deep down, and who knows,” he says with a small smile. 

“I’m always friendly.” I roll my eyes fondly and Jon only raises an eyebrow in response. “If I say I’ll play nice, will you let me go so he doesn’t think I’m an asshole for leaving him in the snow?”

“Off with ya!” Jon shoos me out of the green room and I make my way out front where Brendon is leaning against the brick, a lit cigarette in his mouth as he plays around on his phone. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” I say with a smile, shoving my already freezing hands deep into my pockets. 

“I was getting worried you were gonna stand me up.” He gives me another smirk, something devious playing in his bright eyes. I laugh nervously, my line of vision drawn to where the cigarette sits on his plump bottom lip, just begging for my attention. 

“There’s an alright club only a couple blocks from here, if you want,” I suggest, nodding my head in the direction of Sidetrack. 

“Lead the way.” Brendon flicks the butt to the snowy ground and stomps out the cherry. We begin walking in silence for only a block or so before he visibly shivers. “Fuck! I always forget how cold it gets out here. I don’t know how you live here!” he exclaims with a smile. 

“It’s not so bad when you’ve lived with it your whole life,” I shrug. “So, I take it you don’t live in Chicago then?” Brendon shakes his head. 

“LA. I know, I know- pretty typical of me. But I also don’t have to worry about blizzards or whatever,” he grins. 

“I’ve been a couple times. It’s pretty nice. It’s no Midwest, but I’ve always liked the ocean,” I say with a smirk. “How do you know Pete, then?”

“Oh, Wentz?” We reach Sidetrack and it’s only then that I realize the same big dude with tattoos who was with him back at the club has been following us the entire time. He steps in front of us, talking to the bouncer in a low voice, who is nodding emphatically and looking over at Brendon and me every three seconds. Once he moves aside and nods, Brendon gives him a winning smile and pats him hard on the back. “What would I do without ya?” He then throws his arm around my shoulder and walks in like he’s been here a million times. 

“What Just happened?” I ask as we walked all the way to the back to a small booth behind a velvet rope. The hostess quickly lets us in, but not before visibly eye-fucking Brendon. I can’t help but notice he’s all too eager to return the action. 

“Sorry, I probably should have introduced you to Zach.” Brendon pours us each a glass of champagne, passing a flute to me. “That’s Zach,” he points to the man who’s been acting as our shadow. “He makes sure I get from point A to point B. Makes sure no one bothers me unless I want to be bothered.”

“So, Zach is your bodyguard,” I say as a matter of fact, taking a long drink. 

“He hates that word, but yes,” he laughs. The way his brown eyes crinkle at the edges is almost too much for me to take. 

“You never finished telling me how you know Pete.”

“Oh! Of course. He’s been buddies with my manager forever. So, you know. Friends of friends become your friend, and all of a sudden, you’ve known each other for five years.” Why has Pete been hiding Brendon from me for five years? Fucker. 

“Yeah, he’s something else,” I laugh. “We were in a band together a million years ago with our friend Jon who was with me at the show tonight.”

“I would have loved to see that.” The look Brendon gives me is not entirely innocent and it makes my stomach clench. “I bet you looked so cute up there, playing Blink 182 covers.”

“Green Day,” I corrected with an anxious laugh. “How do you know I’m even interested in guys?” Two can play his game. What was it Jon told me to do? Be sweet and kind or some shit? I think a little light flirting falls under those categories. 

“Well, you turn this adorable shade of pink when I come on to you. That and you suggested we go to a gay bar.” He’s got me there. Fuck. I didn’t think I was that obvious. Brendon lets out a loud laugh and suddenly he’s scooting closer to me on the black vinyl bench. 

“Is it a problem if I’m gay?” I ask, my eyes fixed on the way his teeth are biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Not in the slightest.” He refills both of our glasses before speaking again. “Listen, Ryan. I really did love your set tonight. Your lyrics are fucking incredible. I think you’re talented as hell and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to open for us next tour.”

I think I stop breathing. In fact, I know. As I’m choking on my champagne, I feel Brendon pat gently on my back, a smug smile on his face. Shit. 

“I don’t…” I start. “I don’t know, Brendon. I’m really not opener material.”

“Of course you are! You’re amazing and it would mean a lot if you’d go on tour with me. Us,” he quickly corrects. I really don’t know what to say. Things like this don’t just happen to guys like me. Guys stuck in a shitty job doing shitty open mic nights and going home alone. We don’t get handsome rock stars asking to whisk us away on cross country tours. I’m stuck in an anxious loop in my head when I feel his calloused fingers along my temple, pushing my hair back off my face. “I want you.” The double entendre flusters me even more. 

“Can I think about it? Is that ok?” I ask, my voice much smaller than I thought it would come out. Brendon looks at me with a gentle expression, his gaze soft. 

“Sure, whatever you want. If you need to sleep on it, I get that. Are you ready to get out of here?” He asks with his fingers still in my hair. I manage to nod in agreement. “Would you let me walk you home?”

“If we were within walking distance, I’d say sure,” I laugh. 

“Zach can drive us, no biggie,” he supplies easily. “Cmon. No reason to pay for an Uber or the train when I’m right here.” A free ride is a free ride; I’m in no position to turn one down. I agree and Brendon smiles as he helps me into my jacket. 

——-

The snow is coming down hard again as we stand on the front steps of my building. Giant flakes are landing in Brendon’s dark hair and the contrast is doing things to the butterflies in my stomach. 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, ok?” he asks, worry creasing his brow. 

“I will. I won’t leave you hanging,” I joke. Brendon seems to accept this answer and steps into my space just barely to place a quick kiss on my cheek. My skin burns under his touch, the small contact more action than I’ve gotten in longer than I care to admit. 

“I’ll get your number from Pete. Talk to you soon, yeah?” he grins as he walks backwards to the car we just exited, his eyes still on mine. 

“Yeah,” I breathe out. Brendon waves a quick goodbye as I turn to let myself into the foyer. Once the door shuts, I lean my back against the cool glass and close my eyes. What the fuck am I doing?


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, I can’t.” I shut the door to my fridge, orange juice carton in hand. It was Thursday when I met Brendon. Now, it’s Sunday and I’m wasting my day off pacing around my old kitchen floor. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, of course you can!” Jon yells back at me through the phone. I take a swig from the carton only to realize it’s more than a day or two past its prime. “Give me one good, and I mean good, reason you’d say no.”

“I have a job. I can’t just abandon Z, she doesn’t have any other employees,” I reason. 

“Yeah, and she doesn’t even really need you as one, either. She’s just good to you.” Jon moves the phone away from his mouth to call out something to Cassie, though I can’t really tell what. 

“Ok. But...I have a lease I can’t break.”

“Fuck you. You’ve been month to month for like four years,” Jon laughs. “I don’t get it. Why are you so hellbent on finding an excuse to say no?”

I consider his question for a moment. I also consider telling him the truth. That I’m scared of leaving. That I’m not sure what I’d do for three months without him. That my crippling fear of failure is telling me not to embarrass myself. If anyone would listen, it’s Jon. So why can’t I force the words from my throat?

“I’m just...it feels like a lot. Thinking about it too much makes my skin itchy,” I say in a small voice. 

“It is a lot. But it’s a good a lot. You deserve good things, Ryan. I wish you’d be open to accepting them,” Jon says gently. “I don’t want to see you turn down something you’ve always wanted, something that can change your life, because it’s a little scary.” 

“I know. Fuck, dude. I...what do I do? Brendon texted me last night and I haven’t messaged him back yet.” I ran my hand through my now greasy hair. I should really wash it at some point today. 

“Text him back and say ‘hell yeah I’ll open for you guys!’,” Jon laughs. 

“I think I need to talk through the details with him. What if I ask to meet up again? Will he think that’s weird?”

“You are thinking way too deep about this. Yeah, ask him to chill or whatever and ask your questions. That’s not weird, dude. That’s just not being a total dumbass.” I hear Jon mutter curses under his breath as he probably trips over a toy or stubs his toe. “Besides, it kinda sounds like this dude has a thing for you.”

“I really don’t think so. He just gives off naturally flirty vibes, I think,” I sigh. I wish Jon was right, but he’s a big rock star. There’s no way he’s crushing on some small name singer-songwriter like me. “I don’t even know if he likes guys.”

“Hello? He kissed you on the cheek?” Jon says sarcastically. 

“So what? It’s 2019, it’s not that weird,” I argue. 

“I just think it’d be nice for you to get a little love, that’s all.” I can hear the smile in his voice and I hope he can somehow feel me rolling my eyes. 

“You think I don’t want that too?”

“You never go out or on dates so...no, I don’t know that.” Jon may have a point there. But after my last boyfriend, I haven’t tried to find someone else, really. I’m not even hung up on him anymore, I just don’t want to put myself in that state he left me in again. The odd blowjob here and there has been enough for me the last two years. There’s a crash in the background followed by the increasingly loud wailing of his daughter. “Shit. Listen, I gotta go, but text me later, yeah?” Jon rushes. 

“Sure thing. See ya,” I say before hanging up, allowing Jon to deal with whatever tragedy has struck his household. I stare at my phone for a few more minutes trying to craft the perfect response to Brendon. Jon’s right- I am thinking too much, but I can’t help myself. The last thing I want is for Brendon to regret ever asking me when I inevitably show him that I’m a fucking mess. I take a deep breath before typing out my text and hitting send. 

R: Hey good to hear from you. I actually have a couple questions for you if you’re available at all today?

My phone vibrates not even a minute later. 

B: There he is ;) yeah totally- I’m staying at The Peninsula room 1919. Come by whenever

R: Cool I’ll see you soon

That wasn’t so hard, was it? Wait. He said he’s staying at The Peninsula, only one of the nicest hotels in the city. Now I definitely have to wash my hair. 

——-

The train drops me off at the corner of State St and Wabash and I walk the two additional blocks to The Peninsula. My hands are shaking in my pockets not only from the sub zero wind that’s whipping around me, but from the nerves I can’t seem to kick. I walk through the ornate lobby as quickly as I can without drawing attention to myself. The last thing I need is for someone to stare at me or stop me because I look like I don’t belong here. I don’t- I already know. 

I wait for the doors of the elevator to close and hit the button for the 19th floor. The elevator is paneled with mirrors, so I take a moment to adjust myself. I put on the nicest clean clothes I could find, which ended up being a black button down and dark jeans. Maybe I didn’t want to look out of place. Maybe I wanted to try and impress Brendon just a little bit. I don’t know. My face was still red from the harsh and freezing wind and I attempted to manage my unruly hair, which is now clean, I might add. The soft ding of the doors opening jolts me back into reality and I walk down the pristine corridor until I’m standing in front of four little gold numbers hanging on a white door. I want to knock as badly as I want to sprint down the nearest stairwell and hide away in my apartment. I think about how Jon would be bullying me into just fucking knocking right about now if he were here and rap my knuckles against the door. 

Brendon appears only a moment later with a cheshire smile. Today he’s in low hanging black joggers and a plain white tee that shows off his taught body and slightly muscular and tattooed arms. He’s also wearing rounded thick rim glasses which stop me dead in my tracks. He looks comfortable, cozy even, and I can’t stop myself from getting lost in a domestic fantasy where I come home from work and he’s on the couch lounging, waiting for me. I haven’t even heard him speak a word yet and he’s already driving me insane. 

“Well, come in!” He steps back from the door to usher me inside. I’m praying to a god I don’t believe in that he didn’t notice me staring. The door shuts behind me and Brendon pads off to the small lounge area of his room. The curtains are open and he’s up high enough that you can see Lake Michigan from his window in all her frozen glory. 

“Beautiful view,” I comment dumbly, unsure what to say. Brendon turns around and raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Uh huh,” he chuckles like he’s onto me trying to make small talk because I have the hots for him. “You hungry? I was just about to order some room service.”

“Oh, no. That’s ok. Thank you, though,” I say as politely as possible, even flashing him a small smile. 

“Cmon Ry, don’t make me eat alone,” he pouts. He’s calling me Ry and sticking out that fucking pink bottom lip that’s been plaguing my dreams, and suddenly I no longer have the heart to say no. 

“If you got like, a pizza or something, I’d maybe have a piece,” I shrug, giving in just a bit. 

“I’m vegetarian, hope that’s ok.”

“Of course, yeah. Whatever you want,” I nod. 

“Don’t tempt me with offers like that, Ry,” he winks before picking up the phone on the side table and calling down to the kitchen. I’m pretty sure I feel my entire face heat up. Jesus Christ, I need to get it together. 

I sit down on the couch on the far end from him, just to be safe. Brendon joins me soon after and brings his feet up to tuck under himself. “So, what did you want to ask me about?” He chews absently at the skin around his thumb. 

“About this...tour. Um. I guess the basic stuff. When, where, how am I supposed to get myself from city to city without a car or van or roadie…” I began listing off, unable to stop my anxious rambling. My voice tapered off as I chanced a look at Brendon, who was smiling fondly at me. “What?”

“You’re just really cute,” he grins and my face absolutely flushes. “To answer your questions- it’s January 15th now, we leave on February 1st with the first show in LA. We’d be on the road about two and a half months or so. And since you’re just one person, I have to imagine I could manage to find a bunk for you on our bus. That way, I can keep my eye on you too.”

“I couldn’t ask you to let me on the bus with you guys. Wouldn’t the rest of your band mind?” I ask, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. 

“Nonsense! They’re very friendly, I see no reason they’d have a problem. Now, your roadie...I don’t know about that one. There’s no one you’d bring with you?” he asks, his brow pulling together in concentration. 

And I do. I do have someone I’d want to bring with me. But I don’t know if he’d come with me. “I mean, I’d love for Jon to help me out, but he’s got a wife and kid now. I don’t know if he’s up for tour life these days,” I say with a small laugh. 

“He was the one with you at Elbo Room, yeah?” 

“Yeah. He’s my best bud,” I say proudly. “He’s been in every band I’ve been in. He’s the only person I let read my lyrics before they’re song-ready.”

“You should just ask him. What’s the worst that’ll happen? He says no and we make one of my guys carry an extra guitar or two.” He’s looking at me with shining eyes and I’m falling for his spell without me even knowing. “Give him a call,” he encourages before pulling out his own phone and fiddling around. Well. I guess that’s that. I hit his name in my contacts and wait while the phone rings. 

“Kinda soon to be calling me back, don’t you think? You didn’t tell him no, did you?” Jon asks. 

“No, I didn’t,” I scoff. Brendon looks up at me with a smug smirk at my tone before going back to whatever is on his phone. “We’ve been talking about the tour. And, yeah. Yeah, I mean, it sounds like a pretty good deal.”

“See! I told you! That’s awesome. So, you’re gonna go?” His voice raises at the end, clearly imploring me to say yes. 

“I want to. But I also want you to go,” I say softly. 

“Aw, bud. I’m gonna miss you too, but you can’t take me everywhere with you,” he chuckles fondly. 

“Well, I was kind of thinking maybe you could be my roadie. You know, help me out with my guitars and shit,” I say, my voice a little too hopeful. 

“I know what a roadie does.”

“That’s not my point,” I sigh. “My point is I want you to go with me. I don’t know if I can do this by myself.” I hope he can hear what I mean without me having to say any more. He knows it’s hard for me to say what I mean, so I’m silently begging him just to understand. 

“Ry…” Jon sighs. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Let me talk to Cassie, ok? If she says no, that’s it. I’m not fighting with her.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know. I know, man. You know I’d love to go on the road with you again,” he laughs. I can’t stop the chuckle I let out and run my fingers anxiously through my hair. 

“It’d be something, huh?” I agree. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to her tonight and let you know later. In the meantime, keep charming this kid. Still think he likes you,” he teases. 

“Oh my god, shut up. I’m going now,” I say dramatically. I can hear Jon laughing as I hit the button to end the call. Brendon is looking right at me with his lip between his teeth and a question in his eyes. “He’s gonna let me know later tonight.”

“Wonderful!” he smiles. “Care to wait it out with me in the meantime?”

“Well, I’d hate to eat your pizza and leave you, so ok,” I answer with a smirk. He giggles when there’s a knock at the door. 

“You’re trouble, Ryan Ross.” He wags his finger at me as he rises to answer. 

When he returns, he sets the pizza box down on the coffee table between us and sits back down much closer to me than he was before he got up. Every time he gets close to me, I can feel my heart rate speed up. It’s been years since any man has had this effect on me. I guess I’m a romantic at heart, but I can never seem to find someone who feels the same, so I kind of just stopped trying. This is the second time I’ve spent any time with Brendon and I already feel like I have stupid hearts in my eyes. 

“So, tell me more about yourself. I want to know more about the guy I’m going to spend the next three months with,” Brendon smiles before taking a bite from the slice in his hands. 

“Remember, we’re still on a maybe,” I laugh. 

“Of course, of course.”

“I don’t know…” I start, completely unsure what to share with him. “I’ve lived in Chicago my whole life. I work at a screen printing shop that my friend owns. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need me, but she doesn’t want me to be unemployed. I…”

“And siblings?” he asks with a mouthful. 

“No. Only child. You?”

“Youngest of five, the baby boy,” he says while batting his eyelashes in exaggeration. I snort out a laugh. “What about parents? Do they still live in Chicago?”

I freeze. Fuck. I don’t know what to say. I’m not in the mood to tell a virtual stranger about my family. But I don’t want to lie to him. There’s sweat gathering on my brow as I panic trying to come up with an appropriate response. 

“Shit, I’m sorry dude. I didn’t mean to be nosy, you don’t have to answer,” he rushes out. I turn to him with worried eyes and he looks like he really does wish he could take the question back. He didn’t know- it’s an innocent question and I can’t fault him for asking it. 

“No, no, it’s ok. Really,” I try to soothe. “It’s not a big deal. I’d just rather not talk about it, if that’s ok.”

“God, of course.” Brendon looks embarrassed and I really don’t want him to feel like that. It shouldn’t be a big deal for me to talk about anymore, but my shell still clamps down hard whenever they come up. I give him my best smile to let him know it’s ok and put my hand on his knee for good measure. Or just because I want to. He looks down at where my hand rests and quirks an eyebrow and bites back a smile. When he looks at me again, he looks ready to continue. “How about…” he pauses to consider his questions, “favorite animal?”

“Is it lame if I say dogs?” I smile. 

“Hell no! I love dogs. I have two back at home.” He excitedly fishes his phone back out of his pocket and shows me a picture of a beautiful little Boston and Jack Russell terrier. “That’s Penny and Bogart,” he says like a proud dad. “My manager, Spencer, is watching them while I came here to visit.” 

“They’re adorable,” I say with an impossibly wide smile. They really are cute, even if they’re not basset hounds. 

“Thanks. They’d love you, I just know it.” Brendon can’t wipe the smile off his face even when he puts his phone back and resumes eating. Good to know his soft spot is animals. 

We continue eating and chatting until we fall into a comfortable silence. He’s still sitting damn near on top of me, but I don’t have the usual urge to push away like I would with anyone else. There’s some garbage show about housewives playing on the TV, though neither of us are really paying enough attention to absorb what’s happening. Occasionally, one of us will make a smart ass comment about the show and the other will giggle. And it feels...normal. It feels like two old friends who are ok with just doing nothing together. The longer we stay like this, the more inclined I am to say yes to Brendon, regardless of Jon’s decision. 

I don’t know when it happened, but I’m roused from sleep by the sound of a phone vibrating against a hard surface. I roughly rub the sleep from my eyes and feel a weight on me. Brendon is fast asleep as well, his head resting heavily on my right shoulder. His lips are just barely parted, letting out soft huffs as he slumbers peacefully. God, he looks like a fucking angel with his messy hair and soft mouth and flawless skin. I look down to the phone on the table, my phone, and see just enough to know I missed a text. I shift as carefully as I can to reach my phone without disturbing Brendon; I’d never forgive myself for disturbing such a sight. 

When I read the preview on my lockscreen, it’s only three words. But those three words make me grin like an absolute idiot. 

J: ok I’m in

Now, I feel like I have to disturb Brendon. He’s going to want to know, right? I card my fingers through his hair and move them down the side of his neck until I reach his shoulder. I gently give him a squeeze and rub my thumb in little circles until he begins to stir. Once he’s become conscious enough, he twists his head to meet my gaze. 

“Hey.” His voice is thick and raspy fresh from sleep. He’s smirking though and I’m glad he’s not salty about me waking him. 

“Hey,” I smile back. “Jon said he’s in. I’ll go with you,” I say simply. I wish I could bottle the brilliant grin he gives me in that moment; I want to be able to see that exact face forever. 

“Fuck yeah! Yes. Yes. Shit, I’m so excited!” he all but laughs before quickly rolling over enough to wrap me up in a crushing hug. I laugh along with him and relax into his touch. Normally, this is where I’d tell someone I’m not really a hugger, but Brendon is so warm and soft that I just melt. “Have a drink with me to celebrate?”

“Sure, why not?” I smirk. Brendon walks over to the fridge below the mini bar and pulls out two Coors, which must be his own. He cracks them both open and hands one to me. 

“To an unforgettable spring tour! And to you, Ryan Ross!” He’s grinning again and it’s contagious. We knock the cans together before tipping them back. 

I can’t believe I just agreed to spending the next three months with this man. This talented, handsome, off the wall man. What if he realizes I’m actually terrible? What if he thinks I’m annoying two days into tour? What if no one else in the band likes me or Jon? I can’t think like that, I remind myself. It’s going to be good. I’m going to have fun and I’m going to see where the road takes me. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jon and I are currently in Brendon’s backyard in LA, throwing balls and running around with Penny and Bogart. Tour starts in two days and Brendon invited us out a few days early to meet everyone and stay at his house. God knows he has enough fucking space. His place is nice. It’s got beautiful hardwood floors, a pool that sparkles in the California sun; he even built his own little studio out back. We’ve spent a lot of time in there fucking around with every instrument under the sun and just jamming. It’s good to play with Jon again, even if it’s all bullshit. Brendon knows how to play damn near every instrument it seems like, and his voice, is even when he’s goofing off, is absolutely unreal. Sometimes, I feel like I catch him looking at me, but I think that’s all wishful thinking on my brain’s part. 

Tonight, Brendon’s invited the rest of the band over along with his manager, their roadies, and a few friends. ‘Just a small party’ as he puts it. He keeps telling me not to be nervous, but I can’t help it. I feel like all eyes are going to be on me. Jon doesn’t seem to mind one way or the other about this party, but that’s Jon for ya. 

I look up when I hear the sliding glass door open to the backyard. Brendon is home from his booze run and is smiling as he watches us play with the dogs. 

“I think they like you more than they like me. They don’t even care that I’m home!” he laughs. 

“Nah, we’ve just been pumping them full of treats and playing,” Jon smiles. 

“Ah, so you’re buying their love?” Brendon raises a playful eyebrow. 

“Something like that,” I shrug. Brendon laughs again and joins us out on the lawn. Jon and Bogart are still playing fetch while I sit on the grass petting Penny. Brendon takes a seat next to me, planting his arms just barely behind him, one of which feels like is right behind my back. Penny abandons me the second she realizes Brendon’s lap is now available. 

“Still worrying about tonight?” he asks me, never taking his eyes off Penny. 

“I guess a little bit,” I admit in a small voice. 

“They’re going to love you, Ry. Besides, I’ll be here- you won’t be alone,” he says, knocking his shoulder into mine. He succeeds in making me crack a smile. I find myself doing that a lot when I’m around Brendon. “There’s that smile I like so much.” He leans over just enough to press a quick peck to my cheek, sending all the blood in my body directly to the spot his lips just touched. 

I don’t know what to make of him sometimes. We’ve been flirting, yes, but I still feel like I’ve romanticized this all in my head. I’m trying to find meaning in every look and smile and touch. He’s a natural little flirt and god, I can’t blame him. Jon still thinks he at least has a crush on me, but he’s the eternal optimist. Since we’ve been here, the most that’s happened has been this little kiss on the cheek. If he was really into me, I just feel like something...more would have happened by now. Not that I’m trying to push it. Certainly not. 

“Wanna help me with the bags?” Brendon asks with a nod of his head in the general direction of the house, snapping me from my reverie. 

“Yeah, sure.” I stand and follow him back into the kitchen when there are bags upon bags lining the counter. It looks like he’s cleared every shelf in the grocery store. “Jesus, you think you got enough? Thought this was ‘just a small party’,” I say, quoting him back to himself. Brendon turns to face me with a light blush on his cheeks.

“I may have gone a little crazy,” he says with a playful bite of his lip. “But! Now we don’t have to worry about running out!” He lifts a fifth of Jameson as apparent proof.

“Wasn’t too worried we’d run out before…” I muse dryly, making Brendon laugh again. I turn my back to him and start pulling bottles from bags, trying to organize them by type. But there’s some fancy shit in here that I’ve never heard of and frankly, I’m a little embarrassed to ask him what it is. 

“You’re such a little shit,” he teases, but I hear him set a bottle back down. As I continue to help him out, I feel Brendon come up behind me, his hands gripping the edge of the counter on either side of me. My breathing immediately catches when I feel his chest press to my back, so warm and firm. I turn in the cage he’s built to face him and the urge to put my hands on him is overwhelming. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks in a whisper, his lips now only inches from mine. I need only to drop my chin and I’d be drowning in his taste, finally learning if his full lips are as soft as they look.

But fate has never been on my side. As I swallow hard and pluck up the courage to meet Brendon in the middle, the sliding glass door opens followed by the small barking of dogs and Jon calling out to us. I let out a ragged breath when Brendon leans his forehead against mine. He leans into my ear, letting his lips ghost over the lobe. “Maybe later.”

——-

There are probably 20 new people around that night. Brendon takes care to introduce us to Nicole, Mike, and Dan- the rest of his band mates. They all seem very nice and laid back, exactly the kind of energy I look for. Jon of course clicks with them right away, but who in their right mind wouldn’t fall in love with Jon after 5 minutes? Brendon takes me around to meet the rest of the crew and his manager, Spencer. 

When I go to shake Spencer’s hand, the first thing I notice is how intense his eyes are. Not only are they a bright blue, but he looks like he’s trying to get into my head without my permission. He’s about my height with dirty blonde hair that’s pushed back off his face. I’d call him handsome if I didn’t feel like he could murder me at any second. 

“Ryan,” I say lamely, reaching my hand out. 

“Spencer. So, you’re the guy Brendon can’t stop talking about,” he says, lips pulled in a tight line. 

“Don’t,” Brendon drawls in faux annoyance, “You’re embarrassing me in front of Ry.” He shoots me a quick wink. Spencer only rolls his eyes and wanders off with beverage in hand. 

“I don’t think he likes me,” I say in a small voice. 

“That’s not true. I like you, so he has to like you. He just takes a minute to warm up to new people, that’s all,” Brendon smiles, like that makes me feel any better about getting completely iced out by his manager. Instead, I nod my head and try to return his smile. 

Throughout the night, Brendon rarely leaves me unattended. I appreciate him trying to make sure I’m comfortable and meet everyone I’ll be in close contact with over the coming months. While I’m listening on Jon and Nicole talk bass, I feel a firm hand on the small of my back. I look over to see Brendon has joined us, standing almost tucked into my side. He’s barely touching me and I can feel his warmth spreading through me. There’s just enough vodka in me to make me forget about the conversation happening and focus on Brendon like he’s the only one in the room. He leans in close to my ear, his hand sliding further around my waist. 

“Doing ok, Ry?” He asks in low and incredibly sexy voice. I feel my throat close instantly and I swallow hard. 

“Yeah. Having a great time,” I say with a small nod and he smiles. That blinding, brilliant smile that makes my heart stop beating. 

“Good, good. I’m glad.” I watch him bite down on his bottom lip. God, I want to know so badly what that tastes like. I keep staring at his lips, giving them my full and undivided attention. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, I feel a new hand on my shoulder, this one much more demanding. 

“Mind if I steal him for a second?” Spencer doesn’t so much as ask, but tells Brendon.

“If you bring him back in one piece, ok,” Brendon giggles and Spencer just shakes his head, keeping a hand on me as he steers me away. Reluctantly, I follow him outside where we sit next to each other on the pool chairs. Even for LA, it’s a little cool outside and I move to tuck my feet up and wrap my arms around my knees. 

Spencer pulls out a blunt and lighter from his jacket pocket, taking a deep drag and holding it high in his chest. He offers it to me, asking “You smoke?” through held breath. 

“On occasion,” I shrug before taking it from between his fingers and take a pull. Not quite as big of a hit as Spencer. The last thing I need is to turn into a coughing mess in front of this guy who really doesn’t seem to like me. 

We pass it back and forth in amicable silence for a few minutes. I slowly sink deeper into my seat, letting my thoughts go a little fuzzy around the edges. I think about nothing in particular as I watch the pool lights shine below the surface of the water, noting how much I like the shade of blue the water looks. 

“I see the way you look at him,” Spencer says evenly, no sort of malice or accusation in his tone like I thought there would be. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say in a small voice. Spencer just lets out a short chuckle. 

“Whatever, man. Anyone with eyes can see you’re crushing on him.” Shit. “This isn’t the best friend ‘if you hurt him I’ll kill you’ speech, so calm down,” he says after noticing the tension set into my shoulders. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “B asked you to open for him, which is a big fucking deal. He sees something in you. Even when I told him he was nuts for having an unknown singer-songwriter open for him, he fought back and I had no choice but to give him what he wanted or he wouldn’t go on tour, which simply is not an option.”

Gee, thanks. Good to know he really wants me here. 

“You’re a good looking guy and obviously, he’s attracted to you.” Spencer pauses again, thinking about how he wants to word whatever he wants to say next. “Brendon likes to do what he wants to do when he wants to do it. That extends to people as well. I love him like my brother, but he’s uh...not a one person kind of guy,” he laughs. 

“Oh,” I say quiet enough that I’m not sure if he hears it. So, Spencer pulled me out here to warn me? 

“I don’t know what you’re looking for with B, but you seem like a nice guy. Don’t let him hurt you.” Spencer takes one last hit off the roach between his thumb and index finger. “All I’m saying is that maybe it’s better to keep business and pleasure separate with this one.”

I sit in silence for a minute, trying to absorb what he’s telling me. Since the night I met him, I had a feeling that Brendon was just a born flirt. Who can blame him? If I were rich and famous and handsome like him, maybe I’d feel differently about settling down too. I don’t know. But I knew Jon was wrong, filling my head with “well maybe”s. Still, I was starting to like the guy maybe just a little bit, and this puts a little rain cloud over my head. 

“You don’t hate me?” I ask him and he only barely contains his laughter. 

“I just told you your crush is a slut and you’re worried about if I hate you?” Spencer smiles at me. 

“Well, yeah. You’re his manager and best friend. If we’re going to spend the spring together, I’d rather not have you hate me,” I shrug. 

“Now I really like you,” he smirks, reaching over to grab my shoulder. “Sorry if I seemed hard on you. It’s my job to look out for this band and make sure no one’s taking advantage of B.”

“I get that. How long have you guys known each other?” I ask. 

“Jesus. Since we were like, 5? We’ve been together forever.” I look at him with an arched eyebrow and he sputters out a laugh. “Not like that, dude. I’m fuckin married. To a woman, too,” he chuckles, flashing me a gold band on his left hand. 

“She’s not here tonight?”

“I wish,” he sighs with a fond smile. “She’s in New York for work. Probably won’t see her before we leave for tour. Ah, well. I’ll just have to fly her out to wherever we are when we get a day off.”

“I’m sorry about that. That must be hard for you guys.” I consider the impact of the person I love most in the world being away the majority of the time. It would break my heart every time they came home, just to know they were about to turn around and leave again. 

“It can be. But, I’ve been able to do well for myself. I can provide for her and that’s all I can really ask for,” he smiles. “What about you, Ryan? I take it there’s no special someone back home since you’re hot for my boy.”

I began to laugh, the weed settling pleasantly in my system. “No, no one back home.”

“Wouldn’t know since you can’t be bothered to post on social media…” Spencer drawls. I look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Oh, come on. What kind of a manager would I be if I didn’t try and stalk you just a little?”

I shrug. “That’s fair.”

“We gotta get you a bigger digital footprint. You should be promoting yourself and these shows. Post a couple pictures of you and Bren for the fans,” he muses. 

“Sorry, are you my manager now?” I ask with a laugh. We both chuckle as he shakes his head. 

“You couldn’t afford me, sweetheart.” He stands up and brushes off his pants. “Well, not yet anyways,” he adds with a wink. 

Spencer may have been cold to me, but I like to think I get him on some level now. He’s not so bad at all. Maybe, if I play my cards right, I might even come to call him a friend. “I don’t mean to discourage you from doing...whatever you’re going to do or not do with Brendon. I just don’t want the next few months to be miserable should you catch feelings and he just wants to hit it and quit it.”

“I appreciate the chat. Really,” I say with a reassuring smile. 

“You’re not too bad, Ross,” he smiles back before patting my back. “Cmon, I’m sure Brendon wants to grill me about the conversation we just had.” We both laugh and walk back into the house, party still carrying on like it didn’t miss us at all. 

——-

After everyone who isn’t Brendon, Jon, and me has gone home, I lay in bed thinking about the conversation I had with Spencer. Brendon had been just as hands on for the rest of the evening, but I found it much harder to reciprocate. I don’t think he noticed, but I was stuck in my head. I can’t quiet my brain for long enough to even get close to tired. With a sigh, I get out of bed and pad across the hall to Jon’s guest room door and knock twice. 

“Come in,” he calls out. As I appear at the foot of his bed, he sits up against the headboard, eyes worried. “You ok, dude?”

“Yeah,” I nod absently. “Could I maybe say in here with you tonight?”

“Yeah. Of course, yeah,” he says with an understanding smile. I lay down on the other side of the bed and roll to face Jon. “What’s keeping you up, Ry?”

“You know how Spencer took me outside to talk earlier?” Jon makes a noise of agreement, so I continue. “He pretty much told me not to fall too hard for Brendon because he’s just going to break my heart and that he doesn’t want the next few months to get awkward if we hooked up or whatever.”

“He said that?” Jon asks. 

“Mhmm.”

“Are you falling for him?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s cute and funny and talented. But I also thought maybe he was into me, but I guess not. It was just kind of nice to feel like someone wanted me, you know?” I sigh. 

“Just because he’s not a settling down kind of guy doesn’t mean he’s not into you or doesn’t want you, dude. You’re too quick to get down on yourself like that,” Jon says with a sad smile. “I think Spencer is trying to look out for your feelings and also be a good manager and make sure this tour goes as smoothly as possible.”

“I know. I’m just...I don’t know. Confused, I guess.” I scoot a little closer to Jon so he can pet my hair like he does when I’m down. 

“That’s ok. We’re not even on the road yet- you have time to think about what you want to do,” Jon soothes. “Let’s try and get some sleep though, yeah?”

I nod, finally letting sleep pull at my eyes. Jon presses a quick kiss to the top of my head before rolling to face the opposite direction. “Thank you, JWalk.”

“Anything for my Rybear,” he giggles, knowing how much I hate the pet name given to me by an ex long forgotten. Jon’s never quite let me live it down. I respond by kicking him gently behind his knee before rolling over myself, Jon still laughing.


End file.
